


Of Sound Mind

by Webtrinsic



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Abuse of italics, Broken Bones, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Father-Son Relationship, Gags, Guilt, Hurt Peter Parker, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Inner Dialogue, Kidnapping, Not an accurate representation of mental trauma or actual asylums, Padded cells, Precious Peter Parker, Protective May Parker (Spider-Man), Protective Tony Stark, Straight jackets, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Touch-Starved, vices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 02:42:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17737493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Webtrinsic/pseuds/Webtrinsic
Summary: She'd get her revenge on Spider-Man, for taking her husband away and stealing the lavish life she once lived. Mrs. Toomes knew she wasn't one who would pull the trigger, but that didn't mean she couldn't erase Spider-Man. Even if that meant Peter Parker would have to believe he the vigilante, and his ties to Tony Stark never existed at all.





	Of Sound Mind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [metaphoricalpluto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/metaphoricalpluto/gifts).



> randomly been watching some psych horror stuff because I love it. So it led to this, even though I have a whole folder of stories to come that i probably should have written first but heh I hope y'all enjoy 
> 
> disclaimer: this is def not accurate to anything mental health related

“Have you been having those dreams again?” The lady before the teen asked. Earning a shy nod in turn. Peter held to himself, staring around the white office and shivering at the cold.  His white scrubs doing nothing to help him.

“Do you still believe they’re real?” She continued, and the boy fought the urge to lie and tell her ‘no’ but they had felt so real it’d feel damning to not defend what he believed to be his reality.

“Peter, you’re not a superhero. You don’t work with Tony Stark, and you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be,” her tone was firm and caring but carried obvious finality.

“Then why do I remember it that way? Why do-“

“You’re not well Peter,” she cut him off, not at all affected as the boy cried frustrated tears.

“It’s real, I’m not sick, I’m not-“ the boy choked on a sob, unknowing as the nameless doctor’s manicured nail clicked a button under the desk.  Moments later two men in white uniforms appeared, gripping his forearms.

“No, please,” he begged needing answers.

“I know you don’t believe me now Peter, but you can’t get any better until you admit you’re wrong. You’re upset and we can’t have you hurting yourself again,” she informed, letting the men escort the weeping boy away.

“When did I?” The boy questioned, looking at the blank faced men who continued to nudge him down the long hall lined with steel doors.  Each door holding a small slit that had a sheet on top so a guard can peak in, and a tray slot at the bottom. 

Peter didn’t remember much, not much at all. If he’d really been here so long he’d have thought he’d seen other patients, but he never did. Looking to the men dragging him down the hall, the boy couldn’t help but wonder why they looked so familiar.

His doctor looked familiar too, in his dreams he could swear they all in someway were connected to the vulture. The nightmare figure in his dream that his doctor continued to dismiss as a figment of his imagination. Claiming, he’d probably just been afraid in meeting Liz’s family and later on projected these negative feelings and made them out as villains.  The more he thought about it, the sillier he felt. Considering he didn’t even know how he got here, could he really believe something wasn’t wrong with him?  

Being deposited into a blinding padded room, Peter hit the floor and bounced lightly. The door shut, blending in with the surrounding walls leaving him to silence. The teen stared down at his hands in shock, realizing he hadn’t been bound in a straight jacket as he normally would especially after he'd hurt himself. 

As freeing as it felt, something in his mind had become accustomed to the impromptu hug he’d been forced into. In a way he missed it, missed the only comfort he’d been gifted. Still something in him nagged at first it’d felt constricting, but if he’d really had powers shouldn’t he’d been able to get if off?  The question sent him reeling into the corner, doubt clouding him. The more he thought about the memories of the plane, the building, Tony Stark, the more his mind creeped toward how unbelievable it sounded.

No wonder he was here, no wonder he needed to be locked away. Hugging his arms to his chest, mimicking the jacket, a prickling feeling ached against his shirt and bristled across his wrist. Pulling his arms back the boy’s eyes widened at the stitching holding his skin together.  More questions raddled him, leading him to look at the padded walls surrounding him. Tears bubbled up, falling freely down his face. When did his memories-no, the doctor said they were hallucinations, manifestations, led him to hurt himself?

_ Why did they lead him to hurt himself? Is this the first time he questioned himself?  _

“No, no, no- I’m,” Sobbing, the boy squeezed his eyes shut. Pressing the heel of his palms into his eyes, his stitched wrist brushing and itching his face leading him to scream. The urge to tug at them overwhelming, only for him to fall still.  Maybe this was a test, a show of trust. The teen pondered that maybe this once they believed he was improving, hence his lack of jacket. They wanted to see if he’d hurt himself again.

And as much as the teen wanted to be good.  Something in him needed comfort, needed something, anything. The jacket was all he had, all that had been given to him to make him feel better. With it back maybe then he could try breaking it off again.  A last ditch attempt in justifying the realness of his ‘hallucinations.’ 

Hesitantly with chattering teeth, the boy wept as he bit onto the wiry material that held his skin together. Holding his breath, Peter jerked his head back, the pain excruciating as he screamed. Muffled by blood and chest tightening sobs.  A metallic tang buttering his tongue, dripping down his arms and painting the sides of his lips and chin. 

The door flew open seconds later, the men from before stepping in and practically tackling him to the ground, a knee pressing deeply into his back to hold him down as they got a proper hold of him before they lifted him.

Tutting came from the doorway, his doctor standing there with a disappointed look on her face, “You were doing so well, I trusted you,” his brain pounded in his confliction. Recesses of his mind not wanting to disappoint anyone, but a manic part of him wanted to giggle, cackle at his success. 

He’d get to feel warm again, comforted, and hopefully figure out what was real. Even when he shivered at the potential answer, but maybe if he was wrong he could at least take comfort in his jacket.

The teen shuddered at the rough hand gripping his hair as he shakily followed. The air reeking of copper as his scrubs were stained with blood. Strong arms were holding his biceps, leading him down a familiar hall where the doors mocked him. Maybe he mocked them, being out in about, although he didn’t know if anyone was really there. Maybe if others were, they’d already accepted why they were there.

Had given into the urge that assaulted him daily. The urge to fall silent and curl into the corner, he did crown in the corner finding it warmest there but he never stopped humming to himself. The lack of stimulation making him feel the need to be occupied. Squinting, the teen was almost sure the further they pulled him down the hall the brighter the lights were. So much so he was being blinded and had to close his eyes.

\---

“It’s been two months since our very own vigilante Spider-Man has gone missing, crime rates have gone up and the people of Queen’s are starting to feel unsafe. If Spider-Man is watching this, the people urge your return home and hope you are okay,” the news reporter’s voice bled into the inventors ears.

He didn’t want to be reminded, didn’t want to drown in the memory of May calling him. Frantic as she explained someone had broken in and Peter was gone, blood littered the floor and a weapon had been left cracked on the floor.

When he’d arrived he knew the tech well, and he knew Peter knew it too. He’d called the prison immediately, needing to know if that’d bastard escaped and decided to take his child. But no, Toomes was still in prison and Tony couldn’t help but curse because not all of his men had been caught. They didn’t seem to be capable of this though, not without guidance. He just didn’t know who’d that be. Especially since they knew to go after Peter, not Spider-Man.

It’d been two months of interviews with that monster, who really didn’t have anything to offer no matter how much he badgered him. His kid had been taken, and nothing he did brought him any closer to finding him.  For all he knew by now he was looking for a corpse, it hadn’t helped that someone who vaguely fit Peter’s description had been found dead. May couldn’t bring herself to by the one who identified the body, so he did. The relief he’d had when he found it wasn’t Peter was palpable. 

He’d have been happier if he hadn’t been looking at a dead teenager, but his killer had already been found.

The billionaire paced the lab, staring at the super-suit laid across his desk. He’d taken it from Peter’s room, needing something of comfort. He didn’t think he'd have kids, always too afraid to be looked at the same way he’d looked at his father.

But Peter...well Peter broke into his life and somehow became the closest thing to a next of kin he’d probably ever have. He’d heard the stories of people losing their children, he knew it was a pain you never escaped. A feeling so unfathomable any other pain was laughable.  Tony hadn’t truly believed in it, he’d lost people he’d cared about. He’d mourned, he’d writhed in agony. He’d experienced pain that’d drive lesser men mad. But each day that went by where Peter was nowhere to be found and possible evidence led him nowhere, he finally understood.

Whenever he woke up from however many hours or minutes of sleep he’d got, there was always a split second where it didn’t come to mind and he could truly breathe. But it never lasted more than a second.  Not with the guilt clouding him, that the boy who’d put himself in harm's way for him, had been taken and could be dead. He could be suffering, crying to be saved. He could be floating in a river, body cold and lips blue.

He could be in pieces, disposed of, unrecoverable, unrecognizable. The thought made the inventors heart pang in sorrow and guilt. How could he ever forgive himself if that was the case?  May, Pepper, Happy, and Rhodey were all looking to him to bring the boy home. Peter could be too.

“C’mon Pete, you gotta give me something,”  He pleaded, thumb running over the eyes of the suit.

\---

Peter woke in his own room, eyes straining but his wrist felt fine. Hurriedly pushing the blankets off of his form and looking down at himself. There was no jacket or scrubs, just a pair of his favorite sweats and his ‘I lost an electron’ shirt.

“Home?” He whispered to himself, looking down at his wrist to find no scratches or scars at all. His posters, figurines, even his clothes were strewn about with such familiarity. The asylum, or wherever he’d come from, if it wasn’t for his memory, there wasn’t any noticeable signs of his entrapment at all. His room wasn't even dusty.

An anxious feeling buried itself in his gut, even though as he flipped through his books on the shelves he wanted to cry happily. The doctor, the straight jacket, the pain in his wrist had to be what was in his head. Just a nightmare that had been all too real, maybe being Spider-Man wasn’t as far fetched as being huddled into an asylum without ever learning his doctors name. Spider-Man! The teen jumped, dropping to his knees and pulling out a box from beneath the bed which held his old web shooters.

But when he peaked in the box there was only spare parts, shaking his head the teen got back up onto his feet. Lifting up onto his tiptoes before pushing the latch in the roof, the suit didn’t fall and the boy whimpered.

His peripheral caught sight of the Iron-Man poster, its top corner making his face go pale. The signature that he swore Tony signed one day he dropped by wasn’t there. And when he turned his head and ran to the closet, reaching up for the microscope Tony had bought him, his fingers only grazed the air.

_ No, no, this is wrong.  _

The teen looked down at his hands, the doctors voice pounding his skull hard enough that his ears began to ring.

_ “Peter you’re not a superhero,” _

“I am, I’m Spider-Man,” he whispered, shuddered, needing for the spider themed hero to be real. If he wasn’t real what was it all for? Ben, did he die for nothing? Did he die for some...some psychotic episode?  The teen shook, tears continuing to slip from his eyes before he ran to the bedroom door.

“May!” He shouted, repeatedly slamming the knob and tugging but nothing came of it. Stilling, the facts pushed at his brain. Running at the door with all his strength it didn’t even budge, everything that made him Spider-Man was gone.

Ben had died for his panic, for his...mental breakdown? He didn't even know what was wrong with him. The teen only realized that could be why he was locked in his room. He’d killed Ben, the love of May’s of life. She had to be angry with him, how could she not?

She’d had to deal with the loss of her husband and his...his Spider-Man fantasies. Banging at the door he cried for her, “May, I’m so sorry! I don’t know what’s wrong, but I know now. Spider-Man’s not real, it’s all my fault. I’ll be good, just please don’t leave me May, I don’t want to be alone. I know I can’t fix this or bring Ben back. But we can do what we always do, and stick together. I larb you,”

The teen continued to bang at the door, resting his head against the wood and trembling and sobbing, “I’ll never try to be a superhero again, I won’t say I know Tony Stark. I won’t believe in my dreams or hallucinations. Whatever they are, I’ll be good and we can get the Thai food you like,” hiding his face in his hands. The teen fell back on the floor, screaming and crying.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please don’t send me away again. I’m okay now, I promise,” he tried, realizing the asylum may have been very much too real, and it had been May who knew to send him there. But now that he was home, maybe she didn’t want anything to do with him.

“Please May, it’s me Peter. The same Peter who gets bullied at school, and is afraid of being alone. The one who likes when pickles are smushed in his sandwich, the one who eats your cooking and you laugh at because you know it’s not that good but I’d do anything for you,” 

Looking around the room, Peter faced the poster of his hero. Almost wishing he could ask the man to save him from this, but he didn’t know the man. He thought he did, but again hadn’t he always been a scared child who thought Iron-Man would come and save him?

Peter knew the man had once, but that was different. It was impersonal, no...fatherly connection to it. Rushing over, the child tore through the poster, falling to his knees as he ripped it to shreds. 

_ Bad Peter, you don’t know him. He wouldn’t want to know you. You idiot, you worthless idiot. Stop it. Stop it. Stop believing he could care, you’re going to upset May! Those were dreams, outlandish dreams you should be ashamed of, stop it or she’ll send us back! _

The teen ripped through the poster until nothing could be made out from it. Scrapping the torn pieces together, Peter dumped the confetti into the waste bin before sitting back on his bottom bunk. Another object catching his eyes through the open closet door.

The Iron-Man helmet and gauntlets from his birthday when he was little. The sight of them nearly gave him hope that the man would come, but the locked door across from him didn’t let that hope ignite.

Wrapping his arms around himself, the straight jacket came to mind and he hated himself for missing it. He wanted to be hugged, to be held. Told that now that he was better he wouldn’t have to go again.

Rocking back and forth, the boy’s chest felt hollow. He didn’t know how long he sat there, crying for May to let him out. Proming to be good, pleading for forgiveness, but the room grew dark leading the boy to crawl back into bed.  Accepting by morning he again may very well be in a cell with padded walls wrapped in the closest thing to a hug he could possibly have. 

“I’m so sorry May, I’m sorry Ben,” the boy whispered, curling into a fetal position on the floor and crying himself to sleep.

\---

The so called doctor, Mrs. Toomes watched through the cameras as the boy wept. She didn’t feel bad, in fact she felt nothing. Her husband would be proud of her work, of her taking over the men and their weapons. For finding a way to torment the child so sufficiently.

She didn’t like death though, her husband hadn’t either but he learned to live with it and would deal with it better than she. But if the boy lost all sense in himself, and in the vigilante. Spider-Man wouldn’t be a problem again.

It took work and expert detail to remake the boy’s room down to every hole in a blanket or chipped paint on the wall. It took months of planning to get the boy to begin with, but her and her husband always did have the drive to go all out. 

Luckily Liz was at a summer camp, meaning she was out of the picture for now as well. She had as much time as she needed to break the boy and erase Spider-Man completely. The more she watched the scene before her, she knew she was extremely close. It wasn’t enough that the boy said he was wrong.

He had to truly believe it, he had to suffer the loss of it. 

\---

“I’m sorry, nothing yet,” Tony spoke softly over the phone, frowning at the woman’s sobs over the phone. Before he could try to fumble out an assurance May had hung up the phone. Tears pricked at the older man’s eyes before he shouted in grief.

“Dammit, dammit,” The man threw his head back, tugging at his goatee as he sobbed brokenly into his palm. 

“I’m sorry kid,” the inventor heaved, sitting back on one of the stools before grabbing the boy’s suit and hugging it to his chest. He’d been monitoring the suits code, surprised that Karen seemed to be restless.

She longed for her young charge, almost as hurt as Tony was at his absence. If even Karen was upset, Tony didn’t want to know how May was.

\---

The boy woke encased in a familiar warmth, the jacket tucked around him keeping his arms wrapped while the last string was tethered through his legs and tied to his back. The room’s padded floor offered more comfort than the carpet on his floor at home.

“May did send me back,” the teen whispered, curling his legs towards himself before his eyes met the corner. The teen slowly made his way over to the spot, resting his head against the wall and taking solace in the warmth he was provided. 

The door opened, his doctor stepping in with a soft smile in her face, “Welcome back Peter, why don’t you come with me? We’re going to try something new today,”  The teen nodded, struggling to get to his feet.

“Are you going to walk yourself of should I have you escorted?”

“I can walk,” Peter whispered, managing to stand and push his socked feet to the floor and following the woman down the hall before they turned down a hall he had yet to see. It was the same as the other hall, except there was a door open at the end.

She placed a hand on his back, leading him inside where what seemed to be a dentist chair sat, the vices attached to the chair had him stopping in his tracks. But the doctor only pushed him further, giving a stern look when he didn't immediately lay back on it.

Doing so, she positioned the vices over his collar bones and then his hips. He looked up at her worriedly as she began to tighten them, the pressure quickly becoming painful as his bones creaked under the pressure.

“Please,” he whimpered, needing her to stop. Turning around the woman grabbed a metal gag, gripping his chin tightly until he had to open his mouth before the metal slid over his teeth locking them together before she tightened the clasp around the back of his head.

“This is nothing compared to the pain you put Ben and May through,” she hummed, her smile dark and chiding. The teen’s eyes widened, unable to move as she continued to tighten them further.  The pressure on his right hip becoming unbearable before the others were catching up. 

“We learn from pain Peter, I just hope you learn from this. Spider-Man isn’t real. And you have to pay for the pain you put your aunt, uncle and others through for making them indulge you in your fantasy,”

Squeezing his eyes shut, the teen nodded knowing as his bones began to crack under the pressure, he deserved it.

\---

Tony’s phone rang, a shield agent informing him that ‘the Shocker’ had been caught. In his van was remnants of the same broken weapon that had been left in Peter’s room. 

“I’ll be there immediately,” Tony returned, sending a quick text to May informing her of a possible lead.

Tony flew off in his suit, the nanites still hugging to his torso, arms, and legs as he entered the interrogation room. The suit caused the man to perk up slightly, distrusting eyes landing on him with a ounce of worry.

“It’s been two months, and if I have to wait any longer to bring my kid home. You’re going to be the one that suffers the consequences,”

“If Mrs. Toomes got what she wanted, which by now she most likely did. All that’s left of him is a broken kid, who’s more than sure he never actually met Tony Stark,”

The last name caused the billionaire’s features to tense. Running the sentence through his head over and over, the billionaire had to ask, “Does that mean he doesn’t remember me?”

“As far as I know, he thinks Spider-Man is something he made up, meaning he never met you. Your smart kid, well upstairs,” He gestured to his head, “Is being taken for a ride he’s losing himself to,”

“Where is he?” Tony barked, temples throbbing in honest to god fear because he needed Peter to know him. Needed the kid to be happy with both sides of him, not drowning in the forced sorrow of his more vulnerable self.

“I can’t tell you that,” The shocker replied, 

“Don’t play with me,” Tony returned, only to get a horrifying answer in response.

“That woman cracked, and she’s going to be more violent than the boss would be if she found out I snitched,” a key detail met the billionaire’s ears when he heard the mention of her husband. Leading him to remember that they had a daughter.

The daughter could very much talk her mother down, as much as Tony wished he didn’t have to have the girl call. There was no way out of this without her mother going to jail too. Her activities would be revealed, there was no saving the girl from her parents truths.

\---

The woman watched as the boy twitched, tears streaming down his cheeks as he sobbed against the metal gag. She jumped as her phone buzzed through her pocket causing her to check the caller ID.  Realizing it was her daughter, she exited the room and watched through the glass door as the boy shook.

“Mom?”

“Hey sweetheart,” she responded with a smile.

“I know what you're doing mom, you need to tell me where Peter is,” the girl cried, not understanding why this was happening. Of course she didn’t know Peter was Spider-Man, she just knew her mom had taken him.

The woman went still, “Who’s with you?” 

“No one mom,” the suit stood beside the girl, it had relayed the message for him. Child protective services were also on their way to take the girl away. 

“I’m going to come get you,” the woman growled, rushing down the halls and ripping off her coat as she ran toward the exit.

“No mom, you need to tell me where Peter is,” Liz shouted suddenly. Mrs. Toomes seemed to realize her defeat, stopping as tears began to well up. The address fell from her lips as a new thought came to mind. This was Spider-Man’s fault. Him not remembering wouldn’t be enough, the boy had to die. She had to finish what her husband had started.

Sprinting back down the hall, passing the fake doors she found herself back at the room holding the broken boy. Stopping, she didn’t know if she could do it, her eyes roamed until she found the scalpel. If she couldn’t kill him, she’d push him further into his head.

Twisting his arms the best she could in the jacket, she started slicing through the boy’s wrist and the straight jacket in quick succession she spoke, “This was you Peter, remember that when you wake up.”

The boy didn’t respond, his eyes were already shut; the shock drowning him as blood littered the floor. Dropping the scalpel, she backed away and fell alongside the wall. Seconds later red and gold armor shook the building and came into view.

Tony was about to ask where the child was, but he could see him the second he turned his head. Stepping out of the armor, the avenger quickly rushed to the boy’s side. Leaning the child's head forwards and unclipping the gag before pressing his fingers to the boy’s neck.

A pulse thrummed, seemingly afraid and rushing. Considering the blood rushing, Tony knew why. The clamps holding the kid also seemed to be too tight, but Tony couldn’t worry about that. He just had to get them off so he could rip that damn straight jacket off and make sure he doesn’t bleed to death.

The process in his head seemed to stretch so long, even thought Tony was working so quickly he was sweating. The boy whimpered, face scrunching as the clamps were removed. Looking to the suit it quickly came over, inclosing the boy and jetting off as fast as it could.  The man’s head turned slowly but menacingly toward the woman, who held her head up and met his glare just as strongly even if when she had tears in her eyes.

“I ruined him,” she gloated, and Tony had to shake his head.

“No, you’re just mad because he stopped your husband which apparently ruined your life. You’re husband tried killing him too, and considering how fucking crazy you are, you are not a good enough excuse,”

The agent’s he called rushed in then, grabbing her and taking her away. Happy stepped in next, stopping to stare at the blood on the floor before ushering his boss to the car. Tony followed, passing Rhodey who came by to grab all the important things.  Getting in the driver's seat, Happy stopped confused as the man drove off. Leaving him alone at the warehouse, Rhodey gave a sympathetic look and Happy decided to just stick around with the colonel and investigate. 

Their hearts skipping a beat, and guts dropping when they found the replica of Peter’s room. They were terrified for that poor boy.

\---

They had to keep Peter under anesthetics and asleep until his bones had healed and while this went on, Helen took good care in getting rid of his scars too. What made her nervous was how easily his body accepted it all, normally his body fought their drugs harder than they fought the wounds when they tried using them together.

Then again healing also was mental, and from what she’d heard. His mental state wasn’t fairing all that well either. Tony and the boy’s aunt, a nurse, had been doting hard. She practically shooed away the other attendees, changing the IV and checking his vitals.

Tony didn’t protest to any of this, he may not be doing as much medically but he was changing the blankets, sweeping the hair from the boy’s face, and tucking him in. The two adults were scared, restless, just waiting for the boy to open his eyes so they can offer some assurance.

Tony didn’t know what Mrs. Toomes told the boy, there wasn’t any saved footage of their interactions. He knew there had been a live feed used, but that was it and they all were left in the dark until Peter woke.

May sat forward, hugging the boy’s head as she kissed his bangs and held him close. The billionaire felt the urge to leave the pair of Parker’s on their own, but how could he leave him? It’d been so long since Peter had been taken, it’d feel wrong to leave him now especially when he was so vulnerable.

Not than the two adults could see, but Peter’s eyes were fluttering open. Eyes widening as he realized it was May who was holding him, May who was hugging him. Tears welled up as the touch starved boy moved to try to hold onto her and May returned quickly.

Tony stood at the movement, a grim smile lighting his face as a hoarse call of “May,” escaped the boy’s lips, seemingly trying to hide in her arms and hold onto her for dear life. She laughed and cried all at once, making sure to press kisses to his hairline.The boy cried excessively into her arms, hiding in her throat and whimpering but when Tony moved to the side he could see the teen had a smile on his face, one that clearly expressed relief.

Only then did Tony leave the two be, and stepped out. He didn’t have the right to sit in on such a private moment, but he could wait it out, he could. He’d waited this long already.

\---

The boy looked up at his aunt as she adjusted his head to look at his face, and Peter couldn’t help the sobs that escaped at the action. His mind thrumming happily.

_ She took me back! She loves me, she’s hugging me. She forgave me! _

“May,” he sobbed, smiling, “You took me back,” he whimpered into her shoulder. Practically glowing with happiness, before promises fell from his lips, “I’ll be good, I’m okay now and you won’t have to send me away again. I promise May,”

“Send you away?” her choked voice asked, pulling him back out of her shoulder. 

“To the,” the boy hiccuped, “Doctors, but I’m okay now. And I’m sorry about Ben, and the Spider-Man thing. I know it’s not real now and I’m sorry I put you through all of that,” May quirked her head to the side. 

Looking absolutely distraught, “What do you mean I sent you?” She asked her voice wobbling. 

Peter looked up at her confused, “To the doctors, you sent me to the doctors,” he explained, before adding, “Because, I-I kept pushing...my...my Spider-Man dreams,” The boy’s voice wobbled, “I-know it’s not real anymore though,”

May wasn’t a dumb woman, even though they knew nothing of Peter’s time at that fake institution, she knew exactly what they made him believe.

“What about you and Tony?” she whispered, struggling to rein in her emotions. Rage and sorrow fighting within her as she tried desperately to remain warm towards Peter.

“You-you don’t have to do that anymore,” Peter whispered softly, her not understanding what he meant.

“Do what Peter?” 

“Indulge my-” the boy’s voice drifted off, “The doctor said that I was burdening you with making you indulge my...dreams,” 

“Oh Peter,” she cried, pulling the boy into her arms and sobbing into his hair. This reaction confused and frightened the boy, making guilt bubble up in his chest as he held to his only family left.

“I’m okay now though,” the boy tried to assure only for the woman to shake her head. She was living a nightmare, a nightmare where her sweet nephew was suffering and believed it was okay.  She didn’t know what to do.

\---

Tony waited outside the door, waiting for May to give him the all clear but it didn’t come. Not for a long while, but when she did she was hugging him and sobbing. The inventor hugged back, surprised and fearful.

Tony barely understood the words that were being sobbed into his lapels, but the pieces he did catch had his own eyes tearing up. Disbelief clouding his mind, the urge to run into the room and talk to the child making him shudder.

“Is he asleep now?” He asked, his voice unrecognizable.

She nodded, pulling herself away and hugging her hands to her chest. Fingers cramping the same way Peter's did when anxious, a rage Tony understood burning behind her eyes. It took less than a second for the woman to suddenly start speaking in italian angrily. 

Rubbing her eyes and pacing back in forth, he understood her words of anger. Not at all taken back at how May went on about how she’d kick Mrs. Toomes’ ass. If he was being honest, he’d have loved to see it actually happen.  But the woman was in custody already, there wasn’t anything they could do now. 

\---

The teen woke before he even opened his eyes, the bright lights above deterring him before he curled up on his side tighter than before hoping it’d help him get back to sleep. Hearing a shift beside him, the boy assumed it was May and opened his eyes even if it'd hurt.

Looking up at the sight of Tony Stark instead of truly reacting, the boy shut his eyes again. Turning away and curling up again while his head screamed.

_ You’re doing it again. He’s not here, you don’t know Tony Stark. Stop it. You know better than this. May is going to leave us again, stop it! _

Trying to stay calm and keep himself from crying, the boy’s lips spoke with no sound, “He’s not here, he’s not here,”

Tony frowned at the boy, wondering if Peter was simply too exhausted to realize who he’d just seen. Adjusting the blanket, Tony realized this seemed to get the boy’s attention. Peter looked up at him skeptically, confused, weary.

“Hey kid,” Tony smiled, but the boy did nothing other than stare before looking down at his own hands which were tangled in the fabric. Turning away again, the teen hugged to himself. The position tight and awkward to Tony’s eyes.

“You’re not going to say hello?” The older man pushed, the question soft and didn’t seem to truly ask for an answer. A small twitch of the boy’s head didn’t miss Tony’s eyes, but the boy still didn’t answer.

He almost had, but he’d caught himself. Tony figured Peter still wasn’t quite sure he was real, and considering the twisted lies that’d seemed to be locked into the boy’s brain Peter probably felt as if he answered he’d only be making himself worse.

“I know you don’t think this is real,” Tony acknowledged, causing the boy to turn towards him.

“You’re not real,” the child whispered, eyes teary as he curled up again and stared at the older man’s legs, “Well, you are. You’re just not here,”

“But we’re talking,” 

“We shouldn’t be,” the boy returned, a tear falling down his face.

“I don’t know about that Pete, us super heroes stick together,” the billionaire tutted, staying strong even though he felt as if this conversation would tear him apart.  Tony anticipated the denial, picking up a piece of rebar he'd left on the chair before Peter could truly even speak up.

“Bend this,” he requested, watching as Peter wearily sat up. Eyeing the metal before looking up at him as if he were crazy.

“I-I can’t, I’m not-”

“Try it Pete,” Tony urged, not wanting to hear the boy tell him he wasn’t a hero. 

The boy’s shaking hand reached out, looking unsure in a way that hurt the older man’s heart. When Peter grabbed it, Tony instantly saw the conflict in the boy’s eyes. Rationalizing if Tony wasn’t real then the piece of metal wasn’t either.  The inventor flinched when the boy quickly broke the piece of metal in half. He’d only asked the kid to bend it, but Peter, now, probably really didn’t know his own strength.

“I broke it,” the boy stated, still seeming doubtful.

“Yeah Pete, you did,” Tony returned blankly, upset that the act of strength didn’t seem to sway the child.

“Will you go away now?” the clueless hero then asked, only for Tony to shake his head.

“How can I convince you this is real? That I’m real?”

The smart teen seemed to consider the questions, before he looked up again, “I wanna see my room,”

“We can do that,”

\---

Both Tony and May watched as Peter meandered around his room, his fingers tracing the signature on the Iron-Man poster. 

“But I ripped this,” the teen whispered, turning and looking at May without his gaze falling to the hero beside her at all.

“No, you wouldn’t do that,” She assured, stepping in and hugging the teen to her chest. The teen held back, gaze finally falling to the man.

“Do you wanna see the room where you tore the poster?” Tony asked, not wanting to bring the boy back to that place. But if Peter could see it, maybe, just maybe he’d believe them.

“No!” May shouted, looking to the billionaire angrily, holding the teen tighter to her. The interaction stunned the child, who looked between the two confused with wide eyes. Not understanding how she’d heard him.

_ What if she wasn’t real either? _

Shaking his head, Peter backed out of her arms. Fingers flexing until his middle and index finger curled toward his palm in a fashion so familiar he felt instant relief. Head snapping up to the latch in the ceiling before he moved to open it, not realizing the two adults watching him tersely.

The suit fell into his arms once he got the latch open, the boy hurriedly inspecting the fabric. Tony had replaced the suit when he knew it was safe to bring Peter home, and the billionaire had been right to do so.  When the boy’s skin ran over the fabric, another suit came to mind. One that would give him more answers than the advanced one in his hands. 

Rushing past the two adults, the boy made his way into the bathroom. His foot finding itself on top of the bath’s wall, so he could yank the vent cover off of the wall and send it clattering to the floor, Peter pulled out the torn and bloodied suit he’d worn when fighting the vulture much to the two adults surprise.

The shock and turmoil of emotions that swept over him, sent him into a fall which the inventor caught him easily from. But it didn’t stop the boy from slipping to his knees, burying his face in the fabric and sobbing to his heart's content.  The two adults positioned themselves on either side of the boy, rubbing his back and waiting the crying fit out.

“The-the doctor, none of that was real?” The boy asked, vulnerability holding his vocal cords hostage. 

“Not really,” Tony confirmed, only for Peter to jump into his arms. The dried and bloodied suit crushed between their chest, as the boy held to his mentor as if he’d disappear.

“You’re here,” the boy whimpered, letting go before hugging his aunt, “You didn’t give me away,”

“Never,” she promised immediately, pulling the inventor into their hug knowing it’d make Peter feel better.

“I love you guys,” the teen cried, crying until he smiled. Knowing he was where he belonged and Spider-Man was home.


End file.
